Friday, November 19, 2010

a cure

I’m sick of this disease
missing a place I’ve never been to
in love with someone I’ve never met
I am hungry for what I’ve never tasted
drunk on spilled beer
but never wasted
never more then a drop or so poorer in
the begging bowl it burns
we all pass around it
in turn we harmonize and sing the songs we have never heard
and love the god
that was never there
but if I look around and see her everywhere, these thoughts so illusive
running wild away, too free for this oppressive lifestyle
I was gone for a while in a dessert with a melting sun and a setting race of humanoid faces projected on to hologram tee pees like a
prehistoric silent film
an awkward conscious haunts me
don’t stop us from trying though
a being wanting to be
impossibly alive
my body stripped of its essence
and skinned of hide for a new drum
how beautifully beat eternally
the flesh of innocent self-sacrifice should suffice to please the
entities and selves that cure me
of this disease

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